


The Show Must Go On

by Schweet



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Customer Service, Original Fiction, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24677668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schweet/pseuds/Schweet
Summary: I wrote this for my Creative Writing class last fall, it is based on one of the worst shifts I have ever had
Kudos: 1





	The Show Must Go On

I sat in my car, blasting Blink- 182 and chugging Coke Zero, trying to drown out the anxiety. I stared at the logo on the wall outside. RUBY TUESDAY stared back in bright, bold letters.

“Why did I even apply for this job? I don’t need it. I have another one. The boss sucks and we don’t have any managers but it’s not this bad.” I ran my hands through my messy hair, I really should have showered this morning before I went to the coffeehouse. I knew I would have no time to go home between jobs, yet I didn’t even get out of bed until eleven o’clock. Fifteen minutes before I had to be at the coffeehouse. I slapped my face, trying to shock my system out of it’s panic. I threw my hair up in a messy bun, turned off the music, and stepped outside. I grabbed my apron, closed the door, and headed towards the staff entrance.

I walk in and am immediately hit by a wall of cold air. This side of the restaurant was always freezing.

“Cheryl Anne!” a high- pitched, excited voice rang out.

I turn to see Eva rushing across the restaurant. She throws out her arms and envelops me in a big hug, she was glad to see me. I relax slightly. Eva was working tonight so things would be a little better than normal. At least I had a friend here tonight. That much I could look forward to.

“Cheryl Anne, you ready?” I turn around to see the hostess leaning across the wooden divider. Her huge earrings swung wildly, glinting menacingly in the dim light of the restaurant. I nod, tying my apron tightly around my waist; So tightly I couldn’t get a full breath. But that also could have been because I how anxious I’d been since I pulled into the parking lot. “Okay, good, because I just sat a table in your section.”

My stomach drops,  _ they sat me already? I just got here! _

Eva pats me on the arm, noticing my look of panic, “You’ve got this girl, it’s okay.”

I smile in thanks and head across the restaurant, grabbing napkins and straws on my way. I see my table from afar, it’s a five top. What a way to start my shift. I throw on my best customer service smile and approach the table.

“Hi! Welcome to Ruby Tuesday’s, my name is Cheryl Anne and I’ll be taking care of you all tonight. Can I get you started with something to drink?” I place a cocktail napkin and plastic straw in front of each customer,  _ Death to the turtles, I guess. _

“Get me a Dr. Pepper.”

“We only have Coke, is that okay?”

The old man huffed, not looking up from his phone, “Yes, that will have to do.”

I took the rest of their drink orders and left them to look at the menus. I filled the plastic cups with various sodas and headed back to the table. That was when I noticed another table had already been sat in my section. I dropped the drinks off at the first table and quickly took their food orders before heading over to greet my second table, a frazzled mother and two rambunctious children.

Before I could introduce myself to the mother she asked, “Do you have Hi-C?”

I informed her that, unfortunately, that is not one of the drinks we serve.

She sighed dramatically, “Fine. Just get us two lemonades and a hot water with lemon. And make sure the lemonades are in kid’s cups, okay?”

I nod politely as I mark down her orders, I spin around and head for the server’s station. I struggle to suppress a deep sigh, _ I’ve been here for less than five minutes and I already want to cry. How the hell is the rest of this shift going to go? _

This cycle continued for the next hour, every time I turned around I had a new table. And each table was full of people who have clearly never worked in the food industry before. There was no way the hostesses were following the seating order because I was being double and triple-sat while the servers on the other side of the restaurant had one table each.

I input my tables’ orders as fast as I could, while still ensuring I didn’t make a mistake. I refilled drinks as often as I could, which wasn’t as often as I wanted to since I was constantly running from one table to another taking orders.

“Cheryl Anne?”

I turned around to see the same hostess as before, “Yeah?” I asked, out of breath.

“Linda doesn’t want her eight top, can we give it to you?”

_ What. The. Hell. Linda is on the other side of the restaurant! Why can’t she take her own damn table? _ “What about T.K.? She’s on that side, or Amy?”

“No, they don’t want it, they said they’re overwhelmed.”

_ And I’m not?! _ “Fine, sure, whatever. Where is it?”

The hostess pointed out the super booth at the front of the restaurant, my section was in the back on the complete opposite side of the building.  _ Of course, it’s as far away from my section as it physically could be. _

I hurried past the bar on my way to greet the eight-top in Linda’s section when Rick, the bartender, called out to me.

“Hey, Cheryl Anne! Aren’t these yours?” He pointed to a 24 oz. Blue Moon and two strawberry lemonades. “Don’t forget them, they’ve been here for like ten minutes.”

_ Shit. _

I snatched the drinks and ran back to my section.

About two hours into my shift, a table flagged me down. They did not look happy.

“We’ve been waiting twenty minutes and our food still hasn’t come out.” A woman with a short grey perm snapped at me.

“I apologize about the wait, it will be ready in just a few more minutes, ma’am.”

“It better be.” She turned her back on me, “God, the service here is terrible. I knew we shouldn’t have come here.”

I walked away, pushing down the panic. There was a back up in the kitchen and I had seven tables waiting on their food. I rushed into the kitchen, hoping at least some of my food was ready. None of my food was ready. No one’s food was ready. All that sat in the window was a pair of ribs with some dried out mashed potatoes and soggy french fries. The food looked like it had been sitting there for thirty minutes. It probably had been. The screen listing the orders was bright red, all the orders at least 10 minutes behind. It was chaos in the kitchen.

Ronado and Trina, two of the on-duty managers, yelled orders across the divide, doing their best to expedite and organize the overwhelmed cooks. The third manager, Able, had thrown on a spare apron and was on the line, turning out cheeseburgers and grilled salmon as fast as he could.

A hand tapped my shoulder, “You just got sat again, Cheryl Anne.”

“What? Again?” my voice rose in panic. I took in a deep breath, trying to control myself, and said in a much calmer voice, “Thanks for letting me know, Eva.”

Eva gave me a sympathetic smile and walked out of the kitchen as none of her food was ready either. I headed back out into the restaurant to greet my eighth table within the hour.

After having two tables yell at me for the wait for their food, which was out of my control, having an old lady rudely inform me she wanted sweet potato fries and not broccoli, even though she had asked for broccoli when I took her order, having ten tables at one time, and having dropped a plate of ribs in front of its intended recipient, who then proceeded to make fun of me every time I walked past his table, I couldn’t take it any longer. I leaned against the counter by the MICROS machine and turned to Eva.

“How much do you think they would hate me if I just quit on the spot?”

“A lot, I’m sure,” Eva laughed.

I rubbed my face with my hands, my breath hitching, “Can you watch my tables for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course.” Eva noticed my hunched shoulders. “Are you okay?”

I wrapped my arms around my middle, suddenly struggling to control my breathing, “No,” I shook my head miserably, I couldn’t hold it off anymore, “I’m gonna have a panic attack.”

Eva stood up straight and put a comforting hand on my shoulder, “Take all the time you need, Cheryl Anne. I’ve got you.”

I nodded, grateful that she understood so well, trying to blink back tears. I hurried into the bathroom, thankful it was empty. I sat down, wedging myself between the sink and the paper towels and wrapping my arms tightly around my knees. I could no longer keep back the panic. It rushed through my crumbling walls with the force of a tsunami. The panic flooded through me and I gasped for air.  _ Why am I here? You’re terrible at this job, you can’t even carry food to a table without dropping it. Fuck, why did I think I could do this? I can hardly talk to my friends let alone complete strangers. _

I rocked back and forth on the cold tile floor, tears streaming down my face and breathing out of control. I couldn’t feel anything except my racing heart and the overwhelming panic inside.

_ No one here even likes you, Eva is just taking pity on you- _

The world spun and darkened at the corners as adrenaline flooded my system and my shallow breaths kept vital oxygen from fully entering my lungs.

_ I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe I can’t breathe- _

I threaded my shaking fingers through my hair, pulling it loose from its bun. I screamed in silence at my inability to make it through a single shift without completely falling apart. My desperate fingers tugged at my greasy hair, wrenching long strands from my scalp.

_ Everyone knows you can’t do this, they’re all laughing at you, they know you’re breaking- _

There was nothing I could do except let the panic attack run its course. So I sat there, and I cried and I shook and I rocked back and forth on the damp bathroom floor.

When it finally started to recede, I leaned back against the wall behind me, resting my spinning head against the solid structure. I placed a hand over my racing heart, reminding myself I was alive. When my vision fully returned and my breathing had calmed and my hands were no longer shaking, I stood up and faced myself in the mirror. A face streaked with tears from red, swollen eyes and spittle hanging from cracked lips stared back.

I turned on the sink and stuck my face under cold running water, trying to bring some normalcy back into it. I scrubbed at my face and eyes with furious hands under the water. I blindly grabbed a paper towel and scrubbed at my face again. Only once it was fully dry did I look at my reflection again. This time the face of a normal, sane person stared back. If you looked closely, my eyes were still a little red, but the customers hardly ever look their server in the eye so they would never know.

I put my hands on the counter and hung my head, still taking slow, deep breaths. I still wasn’t completely in charge of the pace of my breathing, so I fought to keep it calm and even. I ran a trembling hand through my hair, now almost completely out of its bun. I pulled out the broken strands and placed them in the trash before carefully putting my hair back up in a bun. It wasn’t quite as messy as it had been before.

I knew I had to go back out there, Eva could only cover me for so long. I straightened my shirt and headed for the door. I knew what waited for me on the other side, but I had no choice. I had signed up for this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Serving was hell, to those of you who do it for a full time job, I salute you


End file.
